Birth of Insanity
by Kioasakka
Summary: Zim was first. Then at thirteen Dib found a love of painting, to the disapproval of his father. Gaz saw it all and understood. She knew her brother's sanity was tipping. But she knew nothing of his new friend Johnny.
1. Prologue

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Prologue

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He never meant for things to turn out this way. But, honestly, does anyone truly intend to lose absolutely everything?

If one were to look at Dib Membrane, age twenty, and had known him as a boy, they would hardly recognize what they saw. Nor, in fact, would he recognize himself in the mirror, so altered was he now. He would not remember his childhood or teenage years or the things that made him who he was now…

No one knows, no one remembers… and yet here is that forgotten story.

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It happened right after his sister, Gaz, was born.

He didn't know what was wrong with her; how could he, at only one? But he must have, surely, in whatever semblance of awareness one has at age one, known that something was not quite the same with Mommy Membrane. Perhaps not, though. After all, Mommy Membrane didn't last much longer after that, after she got sick, as Daddy Membrane would tell them later when they were old enough to ask questions. By age two, Dib's mother had passed on, and he would never remember her for as long as he lived.

From an adult's perspective, one can confirm that Daddy—or, rather, Professor—Membrane did, indeed, mourn the loss of his dearly beloved. From a child's perspective, at so young an age that the concept of mourning was not yet known, the love and warmth previously enjoyed had gone, and that was all. The professor was not a particularly affectionate man, but he did care for his children and his wife. Work, however, was something for which he cared even more.

Dib and Gaz spent their toddling years under the care of various nannies, and they hardly ever saw their father. But once they were old enough for daycare, that was where they were put, and where they stayed.

As very small children, Gaz and Dib were fairly close, being that they were truly the only family they knew. But even at a young age, Dib came across and completely fell for the concept of alien life forms, as well as other "paranormal phenomena." Gaz did not understand his fascination and eventual obsession, and they began to play together less and less. She neither believed nor disbelieved in any of the things her brother so fervently sought after, but would occasionally play along to an extent. As they grew older, and she became competent of such a notion, she began to think him crazy; but at the end of the day, he was still her brother, annoying as he might ever be.

And then came Zim… and Gaz knew he was gone.


	2. Chapter One

AN: Someone pointed out to me that this chapter seems like I'm shipping Dib with the teacher - and going back, I totally see how someone could get that impression. However, rest assured that that was not my intention, and I meant only for an innocent student-teacher relationship where the pupil looks up to and greatly admires his teacher, who rather favors the student. :D

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Chapter One

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The thirteen-year-old looked at the door to the art room with disgust. Why was such a class necessary for graduation from middle school? Art wasn't scientific; what use was it to him?

The bell rang and Dib groaned loudly, pushing into the classroom and taking a seat in the back. The girls in the class were giggling with excitement while the few boys sat slumped on their stools in boredom. Dib leaned on his desk and stared blankly at the clock, wondering just how long this hour would take.

"Good afternoon, class."

Dib blinked in surprise as a man stepped into the room. He was young, maybe about twenty-six, and oddly well-built, definitely not skinny, with short blond hair. He was confused; weren't art teachers all female?

"My name is Mr. Lawler," said the man. "How many of you have taken an art class before?"

All the girls raised their hands.

"I see; thank you, ladies." Mr. Lawler crossed his arms over his chest and smiled mischievously. "I see all the men in our class are just wildly enthusiastic about being here. Right, boys?"

One of the girls giggled.

"I know what you're thinking," Lawler went on. " 'Why do I have to take this stupid art class? Why is this required of me? I have better things to do, like math, or science, or lunch.' "

The guy in front of Dib snorted.

"Well, gentlemen, let me tell you something. Art isn't just for girls. Art isn't stupid, and it isn't sissy. It's a talent and a discipline, and it's the best way, in my mind, for you to express yourself. Now I realize that that's not convincing, and in fact may even make you hate both this class and me more, but I have faith that at least one of you will find something valuable to take away from this forced time we spend together. And truly, that's all that matters."

There was silence, and then Mr. Lawler clapped his hands together and declared loudly, "All righty then, let's get started. Today we're just throwing paint on paper, no real assignment except paint something. Anything. Whatever your silly little hearts desire!" He waved his hands. "Go on, begin."

The room became a sudden buzz of activity. Dib looked down at the thick piece of white paper taped to the desk in front of him, then at the various other art supplies he hadn't noticed before in front of him. Reluctantly, he reached for a brush, and pulled a few random colors toward him. He glanced around. Everyone was getting started, and he could see a few penises being formed on some of the boys' papers. He rolled his eyes, and then stared irritably at his paper. What exactly was he supposed to do?

Sighing, he dipped his brush in a wad of bright green and globbed it onto the paper.

Suddenly, his hand began to move.

The glob of green eventually became a shape, and the shape became what looked like a head, maybe, and then a body, with arms and legs; some white and pink and black added in to make the face and eyes, antennae—

A glob of grey became the spaceship in the sky, and then black came out in formation of a trench coat and hair. Different shades of the colors were mixed and blended together quickly, and a sloppy background came in.

"Hmm, very interesting."

Dib jumped in shock and in the process swiped black across the paper.

"Ah, that's unfortunate," said Mr. Lawler, who was standing behind him. "I'm sorry. But it's still very interesting. What was your name, sir?"

"Oh—Dib," came the boy. "But it's, you know, whatever. I'm a scientist, and this is all quite absurd."

Lawler laughed. "Is it now? Let me take another look at this."

He picked up the damp paper carefully and examined it. Dib became suddenly insecure, and he didn't know why; a blush burned across his cheeks in mortification. "It's what_ever,_" he repeated. "I'd just throw it away anyway."

"No, no, I like it. Even with the blemish." Dib looked up in confusion, and the teacher went on, "Have you done this before? Because if you haven't, this some really raw talent you've got here. This semester in my class should be a great start for you."

Dib's face burned even more. "N-no," he protested. "I don't have any 'talent' for this—art is for sissies, not scientists! I hate this class already."

Mr. Lawler laughed again. "Well, we'll see." He put the paper back on Dib's desk and smiled. "And, by the way," he added slyly, lowering his voice, "my bachelor's and master's degrees were in physics." Dib's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, and Lawler winked before walking back around through the class.

Dib sank on his stool. His art teacher was a _physicist_? Seriously? And… well, what was all that nonsense about Dib having talent? His talents and interests lay solely with paranormal investigations, and nothing else; certainly not _art_!

He looked at his work.

"Ah, now what have we here? Phalluses! How original, gentlemen!"


End file.
